


The Spell of a Gypsy

by Dreaming_of_Fairys



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Abuse, Again, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood, Character Death, Dancing, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Gay Sex, Gypsy AU, Illness, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Orgasms, Prostitution, Seduction, Smut, Tragic Romance, ancient Romania, dark themes, mild violence, possible triggers, sting x rogue, stingro, stingue, you will probably hate me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 03:08:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5568499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_of_Fairys/pseuds/Dreaming_of_Fairys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rogue Cheney goes to the Ancient Romanian capital city as the apprentice of a traveling merchant to sell their goods at the popular Dragon King Festival. However, when his employer falls ill, Rogue is left on his own to sell in the square. There, he encounters a spellbinding dancing troupe and the infamous "White Dragon". One glance at the enchanting moves of the dancer was enough to let Rogue forget about everything else. The spell of the gypsy had captured him. There was no turning back now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spellcast

**Author's Note:**

> Ooooh boy. Okay. This story was quite the doozy.
> 
> I'm warning you all right now, this is some pretty fucked up shit on my part. *laughs nervously*
> 
> So there's lots of sexual content in this fic, both suggested and full on smut (2nd chapter). Also lots of angst. And controversial themes.
> 
> I both have no regrets and I am incredibly nervous... I hope you enjoy nonetheless~
> 
> Without further ado I present, "The Spell of a Gypsy".

**R** ogue's breath was taken away within seconds.

The square of the capital city is jam packed with street performers of all kinds. Minstrels, mimes, and dancers entertain as tourists barter and shop with peddlers. Rogue had come here as the apprentice of a poor traveling merchant, hoping to snag some good costumers in all the hustle and bustle. However, the other had come down with the fever, and is staying at the nearby inn. Basically, it was Rogue's chance to prove he has learned something.

And yet, here he was, absentmindedly watching the entertainers. They were so captivating, every single one of them. However, there was a particular group of dancers that were the most interesting to Rogue.

They all were dressed in clothes with many beads and feathers. Their faces are painted, and their feet are bare. Some hold tambourines or cards. Others have bracelets that jingle to the beat as they dance. Their skirts flow so fluid it’s as if they’re made of water.

Rogue’s eyes flick quickly over the women’s faces, watching their expressions. They all look so much different than the stoned face dancers that fill the rest of the square. Most of them look determined, although some of them are definitely giving some of the men watching bedroom eyes. They all sway in unison, bodies moving so smoothly that it’s almost surreal, the skirts blending all into a wave of colors.

Suddenly, the dancers part way to reveal a single woman dressed in a black corset and a two-toned red skirt, dark hair flowing loose besides a few thick braids. Someone calls out something about her being the “Lady Tiger”. Her dancing is even more hypnotic than the rest of the women, slow and sensual, and Rogue can see quite a few men drooling over her.

He sighs to himself. Did no one respect the beauty of the dance, rather than the looks of the dancer? Of course, this was bias of him, as he had no interest in women, but even so, the fact that people simply looked at some of these dancers like their bodies were on display to be owned made Rogue feel sick.

The same man who announced “Lady Tiger” then announces “Star Princess”, who is dressed in white and light blue. She appears to be so innocent, and looks quite young. But hell, can she dance. Her movements are quicker than the slow, hypnotic movements of “Lady Tiger”, but the speed in which she can move her body is incredible to the point where it’s nearly dizzying.

A few men around him whistle and catcall, gazing lustfully at her body. Rogue winces as he watches the calm, serene expression on her face fall ever-so-slightly at the harassment. The small smile on her lips is now forced, and her steps have a little less spring in them.

“Hey,” Rogue overhears someone whisper, “Are they gonna have...you know...perform today?”

“Who?” Someone else whispers. Rogue turns his head ever-so-slightly from the girl’s dance to eavesdrop in on the conversation of the two men.

The first man looks around guiltily before leaning in close to whisper, “You know...him.”

Rogue does a double take. There are male dancers in this troupe? Why hadn’t he seen any yet? Were they any good? Rogue can’t help but to continue listening, hoping to learn more.

“Oh...” the second man looks concerned. “I dunno. I heard rumours about him possibly getting kicked out of the group...”

Rogue eyes widen in shock. Someone could be kicked out? But their group seemed so wonderful and together, as their unity in dancing was amazing.

“Well, it’s how they make their living,” Sighs the first man. “If he’s not getting tips, then I can see why their leader wouldn’t want him to stay...”

Once again, something Rogue didn’t know. He looks back out towards the dancers, spotting men and a few women dropping coins into old hats and cans. He’d always wondered what they were for... “Lady Tiger” and “Celestial Princess” each had their own, while the backup dancers had one slightly larger pot. “Lady Tiger” seemed to be the most popular. It ached deep in Rogue’s heart to see her with more money than both “Celestial Princess” and the backups combined. As much as she deserved a good pay, the other two did not deserve to be pushed aside like that.

Just then, someone whistles in the mob of dancers, and “Celestial Princess” is retreating to the line next to “Lady Tiger”. The dancers part again, swirling in shades of reds, blues, purples, yellows, and greens.

For the millionth time that afternoon, Rogue forgot how to breathe.

Everything around him blurred as the newest dancer took the ‘stage’. Whispers of the words “White Dragon” were all around him, and they sounded both awed and surprised.

Was this the man low on money? Rogue couldn’t believe it. His eyes are wide in shock as “White Dragon” swirls his hips in place, blue eyes shimmering in the sunlight. Every move is precise, seductive, and fluid. Rogue feels like he’s floating above the clouds.

He suddenly longs to be dancing beside this “White Dragon”, with his entrancing arm movements, voluptuous smirk, and swaying hips. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and has the confidence to match.

Rogue’s heart pounds in his throat, face warm and mouth slightly open. The dancer and the way he so effortlessly moves his toned, exposed body mesmerizes Rogue. His tanned chest ripples as he moves his stomach muscles along with the rest of his body, and Rogue swallows hard, blinking rapidly to try to calm himself down.

He’d never seen a dancer like this, hell a dance like this. It was unique, and all the man’s own. The routine seemed like it was being made on the spot, from the “White Dragon”’s heart and soul, pouring little pieces of himself into every sway of his body. Rogue takes a step forward, almost as if he’s under a spell, having trouble breathing as “White Dragon” leans backwards to do a dramatic movement with his entire body, a wave of his arms cascading down behind his head, the muscles in his arms loose and rippling.

“Rogue,” a voice says from behind him. Rogue doesn’t need to look to know that it’s one of the few friends he’s made here in the two days he’s been in this city. His name is Rufus, and he’s a traveling minstrel who came to the town for the Dragon King Festival like everyone else.

“Yes?” Rogue’s voice is a little strangled and high in his throat, eyes still glued to “White Dragon”.

Rufus sighs loudly. Rogue feels a hand on his shoulder, but even then, Rogue’s eyes are still glued to the dancer. “You do realize that man is bad news, right?”

He nods as if he heard Rufus’ words even though he isn’t really paying attention to Rufus, instead listening to the beat of drums as “White Dragon” begins to speed up his routine, bare feet moving smoothly through the sandy cobblestone.

“Are you even listening to me?” Rufus snaps.

“Uh-huh.” Rogue can hardly breathe as “White Dragon” sways, reaching his arms out to one side, his body as elegant as the river. Every movement the “White Dragon” executes is graceful, like visual poetry. Rogue’s eyes water slightly and he comes to the realization he’d forgotten to blink.

Rufus sighs again, looking at the violin in his hands. “If you’re not going to listen to my warning, then so be it.”

Finally he gets Rogue’s attention. The younger man turns his head to look at Rufus, a small frown on his face. “Warning?”

“Oh, back down to earth now?” chuckles Rufus, however there is no humour in his voice. He sighs, adjusting the hat on his head before continuing. “Rogue that so-called ‘Dragon’ is not worth your time. Do not, I repeat, do not fall under his spell. You may think you love him or some insanity, but he’s not just a dancer...”

Rogue stops cold in his tracks. “Wh-What do you mean?”

Rufus looks around worriedly, then leans close to the other male to whisper, “He’s a gypsy.”

Rogue’s blood runs cold. Gypsy are well known for their ‘magic’ that they use to get money, as well as other methods such as thievery and whorish practices. They were wanted in these parts for doing such scandalous actions. If the officers knew they were all here...

“Him?” Rogue looks back at the dancer, red eyes wide. He can feel his palms sweating underneath the dirtied bandages around his hands. “He’s a gypsy?”

“Yes,” Rufus says slowly. “He’s a gypsy, alright. They’re all gypsy. That entire troupe.”

Rogue swallows hard. “B-But-” he stammers, eyes falling on the dancer again. Was that why he felt so entranced? Was this man using magic on him? “He’s different,” Rogue finally chokes out. “He’s not like the rest of them.”

“Oh, really?” Rufus’ eyes narrow. “Then you should talk to some of the other minstrels.” Rufus looks at Rogue’s face, so lost, so under the filthy gypsy’s spell. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, my friend.” With that, Rufus walks away to go serenade some passer-by, leaving Rogue alone in the crowd.

Rogue decides to ignore his friend’s warnings, even though they still sit heavy in the back of his mind. He stands there, watching as all the gypsy start to move around the square, dancing with passer-by, trying to seduce some to come with them or give them some coins. Rogue simply sighs, not even caring that he’s abandoned the booth at this point. As long as he doesn’t stray too far from it...

“Like what you see, kid~?” a smooth voice whispers seductively in his ear. Rogue jumps a foot in the air, heart pounding and eyes wide.

“E-Eh?” he stutters, heat rising to his cheeks as he turns to face the speaker. Instantly heat floods through his body as he feels warm, strong hands grip his hips. “I-It’s...you...” he whispers.

“White Dragon” laughs, musically seductive in the back of his throat. “Yeah, it’s me.” He lets go of Rogue’s waist, dancing around Rogue until he’s in front of him. “I noticed,” He continues with that same low tone, “that you’ve been watching me~ quite a bit~” He smirks, tongue poking out from between pointed teeth. The white and gold fabric swishes around his knees as he spins, leaning forward to put his face directly in front of Rogue’s.

Rogue’s heart is pounding so fast he worries it’ll rise into his throat. A feeling of enticement dwells in his stomach, churning until it grows hot and urgent, and suddenly Rogue can feel his breathing going crazy again. His head is spinning as the other man’s hot breath tickles his facial features. “Did you want to dance with me~?”

Rogue panics internally. How did he know? Oh god, maybe this man really was like all the other gypsy. The man pulls back, chuckling almost darkly as he brushes his thumb over Rogue’s lower lip. “I can see it in those ruby eyes of yours~” he purrs seductively, “you want something~ from me, that’s for sure~”

Rogue’s entire face turns bright red. “Ah...actually...”

“Wonderful,” smirks “White Dragon”, grabbing Rogue’s wrist and ignoring the surprised yelp that the other makes. “Just follow me, pretty boy, and I’ll show you what to do~”

Rogue is speechless, but does not have the energy or willpower to resist. So he lets this enthralling man take him away into the crowd of flowing skirts and men who have been dragged like him. Rogue has to admit, he didn’t expect this literal god of a dancer to pick another man from the crowd: in fact, he’s surprised people didn’t’ act shocked. Did this gypsy only dance with men?

“Stop being so uptight.” The gypsy grabs Rogue’s shoulders, squeezing them as if to test the strength of Rogue’s muscles. Rogue’s eyes widen as the “dragon”’s hands roam down Rogue’s fit arms, tsk-ing in disbelief. “So much tension.” The gypsy’s eyes are half-lidded, and his voice is still soft and sensual. Suddenly he’s behind Rogue, running his hands up and down the other’s clothed sides. “Just...relax...” he breathes in the air. “Feel the music~ Let it take you away...”

Rogue swallows hard, slowly starting to move his body. He finds it easier than he thought it would be, feeling the other’s hands on his waist guide him smoothly along. Even though the crowd is watching them both, Rogue forgets it and simply focuses on the dance. He grits his teeth as they move together, Rogue’s face flushed a dark crimson shade. “Y-You’re...amazing...” he gasps out, not able to say much else.

“Heh, thanks,” smirks “White Dragon”, moving his hips in a perfect circle as he dances around Rogue. ”I’ve been doin’ this for a while.”

Someone comes up to them and drops a single coin in the old hat on the ground used for the “White Dragon”’s to collect of money. Rogue can see the irritation and nerves cross the dancer’s face when he realizes it’s the lowest coin you could give. He feels extreme sympathy for the other, his heart sinking in his chest. He obviously loved dancing: to be kicked out of the group would be terrible.

“I wish I had money to give to you,” Rogue sighs.

The dancer suddenly stops. “Wait, hold up. You have no money?”

“Not much, no,” Rogue admits.

The gypsy looks ready to punch something. “Dammit. Just when I thought I had ya.”

“H-Huh?” Rogue stammers. “D-Do you mean y-your magic?”

The blond gives him a ‘are you stupid’ look before continuing. “If by magic you mean the magic of dance, then yes.” His blue eyes narrow as he leans close to Rogue once more. “Most of those rumours about gypsy...they are true...even though a few may be exaggerated...” He laughs for what seemed like the millionth time, his earrings jingling from the movement. “We are not honest, holy people, I’ll tell you that.”

Rogue swallows. “I mean, I have some money...” In this moment, he’s a little bit frightened to admit it. If this man is a thief, however, he could take the money and not harm Rogue with his ‘magic’. So Rogue thought it was a safe gamble.

“Heh, really now?” the gypsy was interested again, swirling his hips in a circle, hands above his head. “How much do you have~? I’m willing to make a discount.”

Rogue can hardly speak anymore, his breathing so truncated that anything he says come out as a quiet gasp. “Discount on...what...exactly?” Rogue asks slowly, now standing still as the “White Dragon” moves around him, too captivated by the dance to focus on his own movements. His breathing quickens as he watches the dancer’s muscles ripple with every movement, body curving with every step.

“I asked you a question,” the gypsy breathes, dancing closer to Rogue, pressing a finger into the space between Rogue’s pectorals.

“Ah...I...” Rogue stammers, heat flooding through his body from where the other man touched him. “I...I have...41.28 Leu...” He can see the disappointment cross the gypsy’s painted face, even though he tries to mask it. “S-Sorry...” Rogue stammers. “It’s not much...”

“You could get a loaf of bread for that,” the gypsy shrugs, swaying his hips. “It’ll have to do.” He dances behind Rogue, breathing hot onto the back of the shyer man’s neck. “I’m gonna let you in on a little secret, you pretty little thing. I’m currently at dead zero in payment, so I will take what I can get. Our leader doesn’t take sympathy on us. He’d rather see me starve, despite how good I am at what I do.”

“You’re an excellent dancer,” Rogue gasps out as the man’s hands grip Rogue’s hips again. “The best one out here.”

“I’m glad someone thinks so,” the gypsy sighs. “Everyone else prefers the girls...I’m the only guy, you see...eye candy for the girls, caterer for the men... But if my rates are high and the men are few... I’m afraid the dancing doesn’t pay. Everyone’s money goes to the owner’s daughter.”

“Tiger Lady,” Rogue whispers.

“Yup, that’s her stage name,” the dancer sighs, moving slowly so that Rogue could keep up. His touch is soothing and seductive, and Rogue can feel his eyes closing as he slips away into the dance, hardly breathing as he lets the fluidity of the gypsy’s movements take over him.

The gypsy suddenly pulls away. “So, are you gonna pay, or what?”

His voice is almost musical. Rogue has to recover from the events, entire body trembling as he manages out, “P-Pay for what?”

The gypsy sighs. “How naïve are you, kid?”

Rogue pauses. “You mean...for more dancing...?” Rogue slowly extends the money to him, and the other slips it into a small bag on his hip.

The gypsy smirks darkly, stepping towards Rogue once more. “Yeah...something like that...” He’s then grabbing Rogue’s wrist, pulling him away from the square. “You’re lucky, I’m giving you almost a 900 Leu discount.”

Rogue’s jaw drops. “Wh-What?” he gasps as they round a corner towards a good number of tents. The dancer pulls Rogue to a gold and white tent, the same shade as the gypsy’s clothing. “Wh-Why?” Rogue stammers as they duck inside.

The inside is filled with rugs, animal skins, beads, and wooden furniture. The inside is also quite smoky, as sticks of jasmine incense burn on top of a table.

“Because,” the gypsy ties the tent entrance flaps together with practiced ease, then turns back to face Rogue. “I’m starving and you’re hot. What’s not to like?”

Rogue feels his face enflame with red. “I-I don’t understand.”

The gypsy sighs. “Maybe I was wrong about you.” He walks up to Rogue, who slowly backs up. He trips on one of the oriental rugs on the floor, barely managing to stay on his feet. Sting leans extremely close, gripping Rogue’s shirt collar. “Do you realize what I am?”

Rogue swallows hard. Those eyes...they were so piercingly blue it was impossible to look away. “Uh-Uh...I...”

“I sell myself,” the gypsy breathes. “To anyone and everyone that’ll take me. Any men, that is. I don’t do dealings with women. I’m a gypsy, not a whore. I have my preferences.”

Rogue can hardly breathe. He’d assumed that this man did something along those lines, but hearing it still was chilling. “S-So...you’re expecting me to-?”

The gypsy laughs hoarsely. “What, do you not want to? I can’t take your money for nothing, you know. It’s against my policy.”

Rogue swallows hard, trying to calm himself down. He’s shaking from both fear and desire as he stares right back at the other man. “C-Can I know your name first...? Your real name?”

The other man groans. “You’re pushing it, kid,” he sighs. “I never tell people my real name...” His shockingly blue eyes fill with conflict. “You’re lucky I’m desperate.” He moves across the room, setting down the coin purse on a small wooden table. “The name’s Sting. I was orphaned as baby, so I don’t know my last name.”

“Sting...” Rogue repeats. He can already feel himself calming down a bit, soothed by the tidbit of information. “I’m Rogue Cheney. My dad is a farmer, but I went with a traveling salesmen to get an apprenticeship.”

Sting groans. “You’re not supposed to tell me your name either.” He tugs at his hair. “What the hell am I doing...?” His hands fall limp to his sides. “I’m going against all of my policies for one damn loaf of bread... I’m fucking pitiful.”

“No, you’re not.” Rogue approaches Sting, grabbing onto the man’s wrists from behind. “Hey. Look at me.” Sting slowly turns around, expression devoid of emotion. Rogue’s voice is firm. “You’re not pitiful. You said it yourself, dancing doesn’t pay.”

“Yes, that’s true.” Sting sighs. “But it doesn’t excuse my behavior. There were other ways I could’ve perused work. But our leader wanted me to do this...and for some reason, I agreed.”

Rogue’s heart aches. This poor man... He exposes so much of his body, and yet, none of his true self. It’s all an act, the bravado, the sexual smile, the smooth talk. The only genuine thing about this man is the way he dances, for then, he can lose himself. “Dancing is your escape, isn’t it?”

Sting nods. “Yeah. Dancing is what keeps me here in this wretched, cruel world.” He turns around, switching their hands so he’s holding Rogue’s wrists now. “I’m so fucked up, honestly.”

“Can we just do this?” Rogue asks softly. “Just talk...?” He looks deep into those dark blue eyes, trying to read the emotions there.

“Sorry, the only type of talking I know is smooth talk and dirty talk,” Sting says flatly. Rogue’s eyes widen slightly.

Sting’s expression is stone. “I’ve already broken enough rules for you, Rogue,” he continues as he moves around the room again, removing his beaded shirt and setting it down on a chair made of animal felt. He stalks back over to Rogue, staring straight into his eyes. “Either we get it done or you take your money back and leave.”

His eyes are cold like ice and yet as deep as the ocean. “Besides, telling you anymore about me...is not something I want to do. I’ve been through a lot of shit. Nobody wants to hear the story of an abused, broken gypsy.”

Rogue reaches up to cup Sting’s face in his hands. “I do,” Rogue whispers. “I want to hear your story, Sting...”

“Sorry, no.” Sting says flatly. He pulls away from Rogue’s hands, trying to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. “You can leave.”

Rogue sets his jaw, shaking from nerves. Everything is suddenly clear to him. He knows exactly what he must do.

“Wait,” he whispers, trying to be brave. Sting pauses from where he had been walking back to the table and slowly turns around. Inside, Rogue is crying of fear, but on the outside, he keeps a calm and confidence stature. “I’m not leaving until I get what I paid for~”

Sting smirks, all traces of tears completely gone. “Oh? Change of heart, all of a sudden?” He strides towards Rogue, hips swaying slightly, the flamboyant attitude returning. “Alright,” he breathes, running his hands down Rogue’s chest. “You just gotta tell me what you want~ Bottom, top? Anything special you like?”

Rogue feels heat rush to his face. His heart is pounding in his chest a mile a minute. “Ah...I don’t really...bottom...I guess...?”

Sting smirks, showing his sharp teeth. “Heh. Good. Been a while since I’ve been in control...I’ve missed it.” He licks his lips sensually, and Rogue can’t help but to shiver. “Anything else, Rogue~?”

The way Sting uses his name, so light and teasing, and yet dripping with seduction makes Rogue’s knees weak. He swallows, thinking of one more request. “B-Be gentle.”

To his surprise, Sting’s face softens. “Once again, another very different request.” He smiles almost gently. “I can arrange that.”

Then he’s pulling Rogue to the heavily covered bed, pushing him backwards onto the golden silk. He climbs on top of the shaking boy, straddling his hips. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” Sting purrs. “You’ll be perfectly satisfied.”

“Ahh...I’m sure I will,” Rogue gasps as Sting's hands move along his sides in a teasing manner. He swallows, shutting his eyes tight.

There was no turning back now.


	2. Spellbound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the smut chapter, sinners XP Feel free to skip if it makes you uncomfortable. You'll only miss a tiny little exchange at the end of the chapter.

**S** ting leans down to capture Rogue’s parted lips in a gentle kiss, sliding his tongue between his teeth and into Rogue’s mouth. Rogue has to admit, it feels good. He’d only briefly kissed two other people in his life, and it was so long ago he’d forgotten how good it felt.

“Y-You weren’t lying,” Rogue pants as Sting pulls away to kiss Rogue’s neck. “Y-You really do know what...you’re doing...”

Sting chuckles darkly as he leaves a trial of saliva on Rogue’s throat, tasting the other’s skin. “Heh,” he plants a quick kiss on the underside of Rogue’s jaw. “I’ve been doing this for quite some time, so naturally I’d be good~” He starts to suck on the skin of Rogue’s neck, causing the other to let out a loud groan. “I’ll be the best you’ve ever had, I swear.”

“Arrgh,” the sound that escapes Rogue’s lips is strangled and unidentifiable. Sting shifts his hips, rubbing his arousal against Rogue’s. Rogue whimpers, hands gripping at the golden fabric below him, entire body shaking. Never before had he felt like this, so hot and wanting, as if you could light a match with the heat from his skin. “P-Please...m-more...”

“Oh, I’ll give you more~” Sting growls, moving his hips faster.

“Nrghhhfff!” Rogue grits his teeth together, trying not to be too noisy. Sharp pain floods through a spot in his neck, causing him to gasp loudly, followed by Sting’s slick tongue, deliberately taking his time to clean the blood from Rogue’s neck.

“Arghhh...I just...realized...” Rogue moans as Sting’s hands begin to unbutton Rogue’s shirt. “Nrghhh...f-fuck...I l-left the booth b-by itself...”

“Shhhh...” Sting whispers in that musical, enthralling voice of his very fitting for a gypsy. Rogue’s shirt is cast off the side of the bed, and Sting slowly moves his hands up and down Rogue’s bare sides. “Don’t think about that right now...” His breath is hot on Rogue’s face as he speaks again, “Just give yourself to me...enjoy it...let the pleasure take you away...”

Rogue bites down hard on his lip, drawing blood. Sting had to be lying when he said gypsy didn’t use magic, because Rogue certainly felt like he was under a spell. “Haaaa...St-Sting...”

Rogue watches as the gypsy’s eyes widen a bit in surprise. For a moment Sting stops his sensory engagements, leaning back to awkwardly look away. “Shit,” he laughs shakily. “I’m not used to people saying my name like that...”

“L-Like...ahh...haa...what?” Rogue’s voice is weak as Sting finally starts moving his hips again.

Sting shifts backwards so he’s straddling Rogue’s thighs, leaning down to kiss down Rogue’s chest. “Nothing,” Sting groans in between wet kisses, sweat sliding down the side of a single tanned cheek. “People just don’t normally know my name, remember?”

Rogue nods, not able to speak as Sting’s teasing fingers move lower and lower on Rogue’s exposed chest. Just a little lower and-

“AHH~!” Rogue cries as Sting palms Rogue’s covered arousal, hips bucking upwards, trying to gain more friction. “F-Fuck, Sting~” he whines, moving his hips in a constant rhythm as Sting chuckles and teases his body in every way possible with his masterful hands.

“You make such beautiful noises~” Sting hums, pulling down Rogue’s waistband ever so slightly to kiss Rogue’s hip. With his other hand, he continues provocatively stroking Rogue’s aroused member through his pants, wanting to send him over the edge and distract him from the fact that he’s a little bit off of his game.

Rogue’s back arches off the bed as Sting starts to tug Rogue’s pants off with his sharp teeth, hands sliding around any exposed skin he can find, every now and then digging his nails into Rogue’s flesh, trying to stimulate him further. “Do you like that?” Sting whispers from around the fabric of Rogue’s pants, finally tugging them halfway down his thighs.

Rogue shudders and moans loudly, eyes closed, head tilted back, mouth wide open. Saliva drips from his lips down his chin as he whimpers once more, hands releasing the blankets to instead grip Sting’s back. His nails dig into Sting’s skin, making tiny nail sized marks and drawing a tiny bit of blood. The hot liquid runs down Sting’s skin, alerting Sting of the damage.

“Be careful,” Sting groans, his voice thick with lust as he continues doing away with Rogue’s pants. “I still have to dance tomorrow, you know.”

“Arrrghhh...I’m...sorry....” Rogue whines, trying to not clench his nails too hard into Sting’s back. Sting finally removes the entirety of Rogue’s pants, throwing them to the floor beside the bed.

“Ha~ No undergarments,” Sting smirks. “You really are a poor boy, then~”

Rogue swallows hard, trembling as Sting begins to remove his own bottoms. “Ah...” he gasps out, eyes fixated on the gypsy’s voluptuous display. “Y-You aren’t wearing a-any either...”

Sting laughs low and teasingly in his throat, suddenly leaning forward to grab Rogue’s hair. He yanks the apprentice forward, eyes glittering with lust. “It’s easier that way, and faster~” he taunts. “As much as I love to tease, even I get fed up with waiting~”

Rogue groans, feeling the man’s fingers tighten around the dark locks of his hair, tugging his head forward. “Forgot to ask,” Sting purrs, “do you want foreplay, or just skip to the rough stuff?”

“Nrgh...” Rogue’s mind is so foggy he can’t even think. He’s a little frightened to go on now, but at the same time, he’s enjoying this way too much and he desperately needs a release. He shyly reaches forward, gently placing his hands on Sting’s hips. Sting’s eyes glitter in amusement as Rogue nervously feels up Sting’s sides, trying to distract himself from his own fear. This man is well built and extremely flexible, if anyone could give Rogue a good time, it would be him.

And so, Rogue takes a deep breath, and gives in, “F-Fuck me...p-please...”

Sting is laughing again (Rogue realized he did it a lot, not that he was complaining, as Sting’s laugh was sexy as hell), his fingers tightening in Rogue’s hair. “Ohoho, begging, are we?” He smirks, letting go of Rogue’s hair with one hand and letting that free hand travel down Rogue’s bare body to his thighs. He moves his thumb in a circle there, a teasing massage that builds up passion in Rogue’s entire body.

Sting yanks Rogue’s head to the side, digging his teeth back into the hickey from earlier, causing Rogue to scream with pleasure, heat flooding through his entire body. His mouth falls open again, gasping and whining as Sting continues laughing in enjoyment.

Sting got just what he needed: Rogue to open his mouth. And so, Sting removes his hand from Rogue’s thigh and crams his fingers into Rogue’s mouth. “Suck on them,” Sting commands, his tone of voice so sexual that Rogue lets out a whine around the now slick appendages. Rogue licks and sucks on Sting’s long, slender fingers, body shuddering with pleasure.

The smell of jasmine flowers, wood, and smoke fills Rogue’s nose, reminding him that there was indeed incense burning in the corner of the tent. The smoke had just melted into the atmosphere, slipping into the back of Rogue’s mind. Perhaps that was why he felt so submissive, so ready to be claimed by the hypnotic man of the night, put under his spell, no matter how destructive it was going to be for him.

But the incense seemed to be burning stronger somehow, as if the room sensed that its owner’s client is getting ready to crack. Rogue shivers again, tongue still swirling around the tips of Sting’s fingers. Gypsy’s methods really are questionable...and almost magical in a way.

Rogue suddenly was regretting his decision. Was he giving himself to some dark shaman, who was tricking Rogue with lies to get wealth and intimacy? Was Rogue playing right into this man’s hands?

He breathes in, trembling in fear. But then the incense floods into his senses, Sting’s nails digging into his skull, and Rogue’s mind is stolen from him in just one breath.

Sting removes his fingers from Rogue’s swollen lips, smirking as Rogue finally lets a gasp escape his throat. “Oho~, that was hot~” Sting teases, watching Rogue squirm under his gaze. He chuckles darkly before gripping onto Rogue’s hip with one hand, flipping him over so Rogue is on his stomach.

Sting prods a single finger into Rogue’s ass, causing the submissive boy to whimper loudly. Sting shoves it in and out, curling deep inside of Rogue, grinning like a madman at the reedy sounds resonating deep in his client’s chest. He shoves in a second digit, listening to the hiss of pain and pleasure that passes through Rogue’s reddened lips.

“You’re so tight~” Sting groans lustfully, finally slamming a third finger into Rogue’s opening, listening to the other howl in blind desire, legs shaking from the extreme stimulation as Sting’s practiced fingers work their thrilling exercises upon him.

Sting grabs Rogue’s hips again, flipping him upwards into a sitting position so he could practically ride Sting’s fingers. The two are facing each other, eyelevel to each other. Rogue’s red eyes are wide, pupils blown with lust, gazing straight into cloudy, half-lidded blue. “Sh-Shit....” Rogue whines, his pride gone out the window as Sting continues to scissor his fingers inside of him.

“You like that~?” Sting purrs. “You’re doing great, you know~ You’re sexy as fuck~”

Even if Sting simply says those things to satisfy his clients, Rogue believes them and enjoys hearing him, moaning out loud, “Haaaaah yes oh god yes I like it haaah k-keep going you’re s-so good at this f-fuck~”

“I have to be or I would not be alive right now,” Sting mumbles under his breath, moving the three digits even faster inside of Rogue. He watches in amazement as Rogue’s face contorts in pleasure. “Oh man,” Sting moans, “it’s been so damn long since I’ve had a hot client...f-fuck...”

Rogue is delirious with pleasure, begging for Sting to get on with it, although his words come out as truncated moans, gasps, and screams, completely incoherent to his gypsy partner. However, years of sexual activity have given Sting an incredible ability to read his clients like open books, and he can tell exactly what Rogue wants by reading every single little sign.

“You’re ready, huh~?” the “White Dragon” breathes seductively in Rogue’s ear. He only gets a pathetic whimper in response, followed by a few loud gasps of pleasure as Sting’s free hand releases Rogue’s hand and teases his thighs. Rogue’s arousal is dripping, to Sting’s delight. He smirks, running a teasing finger along the engorged shaft. “You’re going to have to wait a minute~”

Rogue looks ready to collapse. “Argghnnngnng...I c-can’t...wait...n-need you...inside...haaa...”

“Shh, shh, shh~” Sting silences the horny bottom as he removes his slick fingers from Rogue’s stretched ass. “Just a moment, you sexy thing~” He winks flirtatiously, climbing off of the bed and sashaying across the room, teasing Rogue one final time.

By the time Sting returns with a lubricated arousal, Rogue’s own hand has tightened around himself and is pumping slightly, tongue hanging out of the corner of his mouth, eyes crossed and moaning out Sting’s name like a prayer.

“Oh~ho~” Sting singsongs, climbing back onto the bed. “You’re a naughty, dirty little thing, aren’t you, Rogue?” He pauses to run teasing hands down Rogue’s bare, muscular sides. When he continues, his voice is unsteady with anticipation and low with seduction, juxtaposing each other. “Would’ve never known~ You seem so innocent~” He grips Rogue’s hips, raising him into the air. “It’s time to finally give you what you’ve been pleading for...” he breathes, positioning himself at Rogue’s entrance.

“Ahhhrnnnghh...yes...Sting...” Rogue moans, “p-please...g-give me...aaaahhh...”

Sting can wait no longer. He’d never before felt this turned on with any of his sex partners in the past, even some of the incredibly hot ones. “Scream for me, you dirty little thing!” Sting cries, finally slamming into Rogue, not even going slow.

Rogue’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he screeches out, “AHH! FUCK! IT...F-FUCK!”

Suddenly remembering his orders were to be gentle, Sting cusses under his breath and runs his hands over Rogue’s thighs in an attempt to be soothing. “Shhh...it’ll all be over soon...let yourself go, Rogue~ It’s just like the dancing, remember~?”

“Nrggh...give...in...to...the...music...” Rogue moans, slowly starting to move his hips up and down, riding Sting’s throbbing member, feeling it penetrate his tight walls.

Sting’s mind is starting to go blank. He feels weak, but not in a good way. “D-Damn...” he stammers. “M-My h-head...” Everything around him spins, and he finds himself gripping Rogue’s hips even tigher. “F-Fuck...not now...”

“Ahhhrhgh...are you...okay...?” Rogue groans, noticing Sting’s sudden change of pace. He then sees the way Sting is shaking, the way that he suddenly looks weak and frail...

Of course....he has no energy left. He’s been slowly starved, and all of the dancing and foreplay deep into the night time has exhausted what little drive he had left.

“W-We can st-stop, you know,” Rogue pants, not fully aware that he’s still riding Sting, moving his hips faster and faster.

Sting is moaning with lust, body shaking from lack of will, clenching Rogue’s hips so tight it will most likely bruise, but Sting pushes that all aside. “R-Rogue...” he gasps, “I c-can’t stop...unless I’m...haa...hurting you...I have to keep going...I-I’m t-to be used...m-my feelings on the matter...are not relevant...”

Sting grits his pointed white teeth together, slowly starting to thrust up into Rogue again. “B-Besides...uurgh...you feel...haa...so good...”

Rogue moans erotically as Sting’s lips mould onto his, letting their tongues passionately dance, nearly like they themselves had been doing earlier out in the town square.

Sex with Sting really was like dancing. They move together fluidly and in unison, Sting matching whatever pace and rhythm Rogue wanted. Their music is the deliciously breathless sounds that escape their lips, high-pitched with longing.

Sting can tell that his client isn’t going to last long, especially with the way he’s violently stroking himself as Sting fucks him from the inside, thrusting inside hard and impaling the trembling male on his own throbbing member. Sting moves one of his free hands to pull away Rogue’s from pleasuring himself, taking over and pumping with one of his free hands.

Rogue can feel his tight walls being stretched by Sting with every single thrust, burying deep down inside of him. It’s almost too much all at once: Sting is touching him in all the right places with rough hands, the incense is flooding Rogue’s senses, and his mind is completely gone, giving up all logic to simply just blindly thrust his hips in unison with Sting’s as he screams out words that he doesn’t remember saying even seconds after they’ve left his lips.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Sting pants, surprised to feel heat building up in his own body. “C-Cum for me, you naughty boy, scream my name...arrghhhh...”

“AHH...AHHHAAA!” Rogue screams, pleasure exploding inside of him like he’d never known before in his short nineteen years of life, filling him with heat and the need to finish. He’s whimpering, whining, moaning, and screaming all at one, unable to stop himself from making an insane amount of noise, because Sting wasn’t lying when he said he’d be good. Oh god he was good, he was so good, he was too good Rogue felt like he was going to burst open from the inside with Sting thrusting up inside of him hard and fast and the incense fogging his brain...

“AHHHHHH! ST-STING! OOHHH G-GODDD~” Everything goes white, and Rogue shoots onto the gypsy’s sculpted chest, his length shrinking as his entire body goes stiff with the intensity of the orgasm. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he falls backwards onto the bed, unable to remain sitting up.

To Sting’s shock, he feels an orgasm of his own building up inside of him, and so, he keeps thrusting into Rogue’s spent body, trying desperately to reach his own climax. “C-C’mon...” he groans, sweat dripping off of his hair and skin. Rogue lets out a small whimper underneath him, still seeing stars. That tiny little sound is Sting’s undoing. “AHHRGHHH AAH~! ROGUE!” he screams, and then he shoots his load, gasping loudly as he shudders violently and collapses, head spinning.

“I...I can’t believe it...” Sting breathes weakly, looking over at the shuddering merchant beside him on the oriental bedspread. “I...that was the first time I’ve orgasmed during sex in so long...months, I think... E-Enjoying myself...that’s...weird to me...almost...”

Rogue blinks, exhausted as he sighs out, “Well, that’s good you were able to, then...”

To his shock, he hears a slight sniffle. Rogue turns his head to look over at Sting, and he sees an expression he thought Sting didn’t even know how to make.

“Thank you, Rogue,” Sting whispers, a single tear glittering in his left eye. “You...you were so different than everyone else... I wasn’t being ‘used’, I was being...I don’t even know...seen as...human.” He quickly wipes away the tear with the back of his hand, shaking his head. “What am I saying...? I can’t get attached to a client...even though you pretty much saved my life...”

Rogue gently caresses Sting’s cheek, his heartrate finally calming. “Sting...” he breathes, “It’s okay...it’s okay to not want to get attached...I don’t live here anyways...I’ll be on my way eventually, traveling the rest of Romania.” He sighs, looking incredibly saddened. “No matter how much I think you are beautiful despite your emotional scars, no matter how much I could fix you, it cannot come to pass...”

Rogue can feel tears in his eyes as he manages out, “Please just remember me...remember me as the hope...remember that there are still people out there who care about even a broken gypsy prostitute...”

Sting smiles shakily, running his fingers through Rogue’s dark hair. “Yeah...trust me...I won’t forget you...”

He grabs a thick gold blanket from the foot of the bed and drapes it over their bare bodies, pulling Rogue close. He snuggles up into him, breathing in the scent of Rogue’s hair and feeling ready to crack. He had never been in this proximity with another guy in a non-sexual way, and now it was so warm and welcoming that Sting wasn’t sure if he could handle it.

“Thank you,” he mumbles one last time before drifting off into sleep.


	3. Spellbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the final chapter! Enjoy everyone, and grab your tissues ;)

**S** ting’s eyes open slowly, his eyelids heavy. He groans, stretching his arms above his head. “Ugh,” he looks down at his chest in distaste. “I’m still all dirty.” He freezes, suddenly wondering why he hadn’t cleaned himself off the night before. “Weird...” he mumbles. “What even...? I mean, I actually had a client, which is good...” He turns his head to the side, eyes widening at the sight of the young merchant lying beside him.

“Rogue...” he whispers, heart rising in his throat. Memories of yesterday flood into his mind like a wave on the tide, from Rogue’s smiles to his embarrassment about dancing to his sexy moans in bed. Sting begins to panic. “Why is he still here?” he whispers to himself. “It costs more to stay the night...oh fuck...”

Sting climbs out of bed and moves over to one of his cabinets.  He sits on a woven mat in the corner of the room and sponges himself down with musty water. Sponge baths were all their group of gypsy could afford, and Jiemma encouraged them, as they were supposedly much more sensual than anything else _. ‘Because everything has to be about the sex,’_ Sting thinks angrily as he wrings out the sponge into the dirty water.

He dresses back in his dancer uniform, all gold and white silk with the shimmering beads. He sighs, looking down at the getup that he’s worn ever since it could fit him. His outfits have been similar over the years of dancing, but this one covered the least amount of skin. As much as Sting loved to dance and feel the wind on his bare skin, he felt that it didn’t really do much for his reputation.

He knew people hated him. He’d manipulated quite a few people into giving him extra money or pickpocketed people before on their way out with a simple seductive caress of the client’s hips. A good number of citizens also considered him disgusting, and over the years he’d had to learn to hide his discomfort, sadness, or anger at their comments. He was not only a prostitute, but he only slept with men, and that was seen as the most scandalous act of all by anyone with certain restrictions in their religion or morals.

Just then, the flap on Sting’s tent is violently forced open, ripping the ropes that tie the flaps of the tent together. Sting stumbles backwards, a little surprised at the violent answer.

“Why was the flap closed, Sting?” a low voice grumbles from the doorway.

Sting swallows hard as a shadow is cast over the room. He looks from the massive man in the doorway to the other man lying in his bed, a feeling of dread filling his stomach. “I...I forgot quite a few things last night, Master, I had a fairly demanding client and-”

“It’s about time you got a client,” Master Jiemma grumbles, ducking into the tent. His massive form towers over the smaller gypsy, and Sting squirms under his glare. “But demanding? I don’t think so. Minerva told me you were dancing with some shy merchant boy.”

Sting sighs, walking over to one of the tables to pick up his pipe. He doesn’t have much tobacco left, but he has a feeling today is going to be a stressful one, so he lights himself a smoke and sets it between his lips. He sinks down onto one of his skin chairs, lazily crossing his legs. Jiemma is waiting for him to answer, his beady eyes watching Sting’s every move.

“It’s always the quiet ones,” Sting finally says. “He didn’t like public affection but by the time we were here he was moaning like a bitch.”

Jiemma does not seem amused. “Watch your tongue, boy.” Sting looks away, fearful of what was to come. Please do not look at the bed... But of course, Sting’s hoping and wishing failed him, just like every other time. “Why is he still here?”

Sting gulps nervously. “I don’t know, Master. I’m assuming we just fell asleep but-”

“FELL ASLEEP?!” Jiemma roars. Sting nearly falls out of his chair. “You fell asleep on a client?!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Sting protests. “And I was tired, I’ve been running on low budget lately and barely eating, you know that! If you want me to preform at my best I’ll need something to eat for fuck’s sake!” Frustrated, Sting finally spits out, “Take more money from your own daughter if you need it! Stop taking it from me!”

Jiemma storms over to Sting’s chair and picks Sting up by the shirt. Sting trembles, both from weakness and from fear as the larger man stares him down. “Well then, don’t forget to charge that kid in your bed extra for staying the night!”

“I will, I will!” Sting says quickly. “Trust me, I’ll take whatever money I can get!”

Jiemma growls, then sets Sting down on the ground. “Give me 40 Leu, Sting. Right now.”

Sting’s heart sinks. “F-Forty, M-Master?” he stammers, stumbling over to the table with his coin purse.

“I say that’s decent,” Jiemma rumbles, “after all, your client paid you what, like 1000 Leu? And you’re going to get some extra when he awakens.”

Sting swallows back a scream and instead pulls the coins Rogue had given him from the small coin purse. He looks at them one final time, running his fingers along the cold, metal surface of each coin. Without looking at Jiemma, he presses the coins into Jiemma’s massive palm. “There,” his voice cracks as he speaks. “40 Leu. Enjoy it.”

“If you mess up one more time,” Jiemma growls. “You will not like the consequences.” He stalks towards the tent door, exiting with flourish of the tent flaps.

Sting sinks onto the nearest rug, burying his face in his hands and sobbing. “Wh-Why?!” he gasps out. “I...I was...so...close...”

Just then, a rustling sound draws Sting’s attention to the bed behind him. Rogue is sitting up, tears sliding down his cheeks as he studies Sting’s face.

“You heard everything, didn’t you?” Sting asks shakily, sniffling as he tries to wipe some of his tears away. Rogue nods silently, and Sting quickly moves back to the bed, sitting beside the trembling apprentice. “Do you want your clothes?”

Rogue nods, more tears coating his cheeks. Sting brings the clothes to Rogue, as well as a damp towel. “Here, to clean yourself up.”

“Thank you,” Rogue whispers, his voice hoarse and weak. He sniffs as he wipes himself down, then slowly dresses.

Sting waits on the bed, watching Rogue’s expressions with concern. Why was he crying so hard? Rogue collapses back onto the bed a moment later, burying his face into one of the ornate pillows and sobbing. Sting runs his fingers through Rogue’s dark hair, concerned. “Why are you crying, Rogue?”

“Why am I crying?” Rogue asks, his voice muffled by the pillow. Suddenly he’s sitting straight up, face lined with tears. “Why am I crying?! I’m crying because your leader is such an asshole and took away what could’ve saved your life!”

Sting shakes his head. “That’s no reason for you to cry. It’s my problem, not yours.”

“No, you don’t understand!” Rogue wails, his entire body trembling. “I...I...I was a virgin before last night!”

Sting’s eyes widen. “Wh-What?” he chokes out.

“I slept with you, lost my virginity to you, to save you!” Rogue exclaims, voice cracking from tears. "I...I was s-so scared, but I wanted to save your life! But it was all for nothing! I gave up part of myself and it was all for nothing! My innocence, my purity, all gone, stolen from me! God, if my mother knew what I’d done she’d disown me! I’m filthy, wretched, impure! And it was all because I wanted to save you!”

“You see?!” Sting suddenly shouts, grabbing Rogue’s shoulders so he’s facing him. “That’s what happens when you care for a gypsy, Rogue! You get hurt, you get ruined! As I said before, we are not holy people! We are gypsy because there is no other way!”

Tears cascade from Sting’s face as he chokes out, “There is no escape for us! We will forever be forced to sell our bodies to anyone desiring them, no matter how terrible of a person they are, no matter how many times they hit us or treat us like sex objects instead of people! And anyone who does dealings with a gypsy, anyone who becomes attached, they too will be destroyed by the reality of the world!”

Sting’s voice suddenly falters and cracks. “R-Romania...” he whispers, “s-supposed to flourish with a-appreciation for the a-arts, for th-those who dance and sing and play... And yet, here I am! Starving to death surrounded by luxuries that if I dared sell I’d be beaten, for they are my Master’s, not my own!”

Rogue’s eyes are wide with terror, tears coating his cheeks. “St-Sting...” he stammers, lip trembling. “I...I’m so sorry!”

Sting’s anger suddenly dies. He gently cups Rogue’s face in his own. “I...I feel terrible...” he breathes. “If...If I had known you were a virgin, Rogue, I would’ve agreed to just talk to you...and I shouldn’t have fallen asleep on you and-and-and-!”

With that, Sting breaks down into complete hysteria, burying his face into Rogue’s chest. He sobs uncontrollably, body shaking with his cries as Rogue wraps his arms around him. “I’m sorry,” Rogue whispers as more tears silently slide from his eyes. “I’m so sorry...”

They stay like that for quite some time until Sting finally calms down, his breathing returning to normal as Rogue runs his fingers through Sting’s spiked hair.

They are interrupted by the sound of drums from outside, followed by some chanting. “Shit!” Sting exclaims, sitting up straight faster than a bullet. “That’s the call to the square!” He’s then leaping off the bed, rushing towards the exit and holding up the flap. He then pauses, watching as Rogue slowly shuffles towards him, barefoot on the rugs. They stare at each other for a long moment, completely and totally silent.

Suddenly, Sting’s tilting Rogue’s chin up and kissing him, so gentle and sweet that Rogue felt fireworks in his stomach, as if this was a kiss of love. They break apart as they exit the tent, but Rogue chases after Sting and tugs him forward by the front of his beaded shirt and kisses him passionately, fresh tears in his eyes.

They broke apart, fingertips touching as they moved away, tears glittering in their eyes as Sting turned away and moves into the crowd of dancers.

Rogue runs away as fast as he can, tears falling from his face as his vision blurs. Because somehow, in the span of not even a day, he’d fallen in love with Sting.

_He’d fallen in love with a gypsy._

Rogue shoves the door to the hotel room open, his cheeks still coated with water. “There you are, boy!” the merchant exclaims loudly. He storms over to Rogue, gray eyes flashing with anger. “Where the hell have you been, why are your clothes all messed up, where is the profit from the booth yesterday, and what the fuck happened to your neck?”

Rogue doesn’t even have the chance to feel embarrassed for his visible markings, instead he crumbles to the floor in a broken hearted mess of guilt and self-hatred. The merchant frowns from above him, crouching down next to his apprentice. “What happened?”

Rogue tries to form a sentence, tries to explain his predicament, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “Gypsy.”

His employer’s eyes widen in anger. “Gypsy?!” he roars. “Did she rob you? Use you? What did she do?”

Rogue shakes his head because he didn’t understand, he had it all wrong, everything he was saying was completely and totally wrong and he could hear him keep talking but his heart was pounding faster and faster in his ears and he just wanted to scream.

“We’re leaving tonight, then!” the merchant exclaims. “I don’t want to be in a city with gypsy, no thank you!”

Rogue looks up at him in horror. “W-We’re supposed to stay a-another week or two,” he stammers. If they left now, there would be no possible way for Rogue to see if Sting was alright, there would be no way for him to somehow get more money to him, Sting would die if they left-

“Give me food money, please!” Rogue suddenly shouts. “I need a lot! Mine got stolen and I need some food I’m so hungry!”

The merchant frowns. This was rather unlike Rogue, but he could see the man was in absolute distress. He hands Rogue a good 300 Leu, and Rogue takes it with determination in his heart and a set in his jaw. With that, he takes off. He ignores the screams of his employer, asking him where he was going, commanding him back.

Rogue sets off down the cobbled streets, suddenly realizing he was still barefoot as he cuts his foot on a rock. He had left his boots with Sting. He bites down on his lip, ignoring the pain as the blood splatters on the cobble with every step. His legs shook and his lungs burned, still in pain from the night before, but he perseveres. He has to make it to Sting.

He bursts into the gypsy camp, ignoring the strange looks some of the women there give him and rushing towards Sting’s tent. The flaps are closed and Rogue can hear voices inside, one of them sounding very ragged and beat while the other sounded extremely satisfied.

The flaps open to reveal a man around the age of 30, a sadistic smirk on his face as he strides past Rogue. Rogue is then bursting through the tent entrance, panting, sweating, and biting back tears of pain.

Sting is collapsed on the bed with only a blanket covering his hips, looking ready to cry. He’s biting down on his lip, trembling as sweat slides down his face. His eyes were closed tightly and his skin was pale. He looked so weak and frail, lying there exhausted of all energy and will.

Rogue flings himself onto the bed next to Sting, frantically shoving the coin purse into Sting’s face. “Take it!” he screams. “Take it before you don’t have the strength to anymore!”

Sting opens one eye to look at the other man. “R-Rogue?” he coughs, shivering as he spoke. “Why are you...?” He groans in pain, shivering violently. “And...I can’t...it’s against my policy.”

Rogue is shaking with desperation. “Then do something, I don’t care! Just feel me up if you’d like, bathe with me, I don’t give a shit! I want you to take this, it’s 300, it should help you, you should be able to-!”

Sting’s suddenly sitting up, wheezing as he grasps onto Rogue’s collar. “Rogue...” he whispers. “I’m sorry...but it’s too late now...I’m dying...no amount of money is going to save that...” He coughs, and Rogue’s eyes widen when he sees blood on Sting’s lips. “I’m sick and starving… I’d need a doctor...which means I’d need an insane amount of money...I’d have to somehow sleep with ten men in one day...and I don’t have the energy or time to do that...”

Sting falls backwards onto the bed, coughing up more blood. “It’s over for me, Rogue...”

“B-But...” Rogue stammers. “N-No...Sting, please...I love you, okay?! I’m not going to let you die!”

“I’m sorry,” Sting whispers, reaching up to caress Rogue’s cheek. “But thank you...thank you for everything you’ve done...I appreciate it...go live your life...without me...forget me...”

“No, never!” Rogue screams, tears falling onto the bed. “I won’t ever forget you!”

“Rogue, please,” Sting coughs violently again, chest heaving from the effort. “It’s too late.” His eyes widen in pain, as he suddenly cries out. “Ah!” He clenches onto Rogue’s arm tightly, shaking. “Th-Thank you for being…the first to be…kind to me…”

His entire body spasms with pain, his eyes flashing with pain, mouth opening in a painful scream. “I’m dying, oh god I’m dying...!” he sobs. “I...just when I had a reason to live, too!”

His lip trembles. “F-For the first time in my life, I want to live! I don’t wanna die!”

He breaks down right then, sobbing weakly as his breathing gets quicker and quicker. His heart rate is slowing, Rogue can feel it. “G-Goodbye, Rogue...” Sting whispers, his voice unstable. “Th-Thank you...I l-loved you too...”

And with one gasping breath, Sting’s eyes close for the final time.

Rogue cried until he could cry no more, holding Sting’s battered body to his chest, whimpering and wailing until he lost his voice.

For everyone would remember the White Dragon, and his hypnotic dances and sexual smile, but no one would remember the person Rogue had seen...no one would remember Sting. No one would remember but him.

And that was the magic of the gypsy...the ability to cause the whole world to crash all around them...and then fade away into nothing but a memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, I appreciate every single hit/comment/kudo you give me. I love you all so much <3


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